


Take a Risk On Me

by iamthelordofwinterfell



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-29
Updated: 2014-11-10
Packaged: 2018-02-10 23:16:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 3,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2043939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iamthelordofwinterfell/pseuds/iamthelordofwinterfell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A modern AU in which Tyrion and Sansa date, and Sansa hopes her family will grow to accept Tyrion despite their differences...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Tyrion Lannister. Just thinking his name made her shiver all over as she lay in bed that night, seeing the outline of the window as the moon broke through the clouds.

 

It was late, and both her parents and Robb were asleep, but Sansa lay awake, thinking of her boyfriend... And how she might introduce her family to the idea. 

She had met Tyrion at college, seeing him first in her Lit class. He sat straight in his chair, leaning back slightly. Sitting, she had not been able to tell that there would be a significant height difference between the two. She had only noticed the golden hair that fell across his forehead, the gleam in his green eyes. He had smiled at her slightly when she had first walked in, catching her looking, and she had blushed and found a seat a few rows behind him. 

It was only when the register was called that she realised who he was. A Lannister. His father was the widowed Tywin Lannister, and their entire family was one giant scandal. Tywin owned the ostentatious company Lannister Enterprises, which handled the advancement of computer science, and was also the biggest producer of computer products in the UK.

Everyone had heard of the scandal between Cersei and Jaime, Tywin's twin children, caught together in a storeroom at the company's building, of all places. The story had made headlines. Tyrion, his stunted, and often shunned son, who was rarely seen at any press events, was often a subject of interest - did Tywin not wish to keep his youngest son close, to guide him and care for him? 

Ned Stark, her own father, was employed by Lannister Enterprises, and had little to no respect for Tywin.

"Cold as a snake, just like his eyes." Her father often remarked in the privacy of their own home - but Sansa knew the job paid well.

Tyrion had those same eyes, that made her burn hot and cold. The first, feather-light kiss in the corner of her mouth, before she opened her own blue eyes into his. 

She knew Tyrion wasn't the same as his father. As she had walked past his desk after their class together, he had called after her.

"Sansa?" She had turned. "You're Sansa Stark, right? Ned Stark's daughter?" He had asked, before flashing a sweet, slightly too many teeth, smile. It endeared her.

"Yes." Sansa had answered. "And your Tyrion. I know you. I mean, I know of you."

"Of course you do." Then, still with that cocky smile, he had stepped from his chair. He barely came up to her chest, but stood back, so she didn't have to look down at him. She carefully kept her face blank.  
"Was there something you wanted, Tyrion?" Sansa asked cautiously. She knew the reputation of Lannisters.

"Yeah, actually." Tyrion smirked. "Would you perhaps consider getting a coffee with me? I'll pay."

Despite her surprise, and wariness, Sansa was curious. She had only recently got over the break up of her on-off boyfriend through high school, Joffrey Baratheon, and she figured Tyrion could, if nothing else, be interesting.

But he was attentive and thoughtful. He bought her her favourite drink in the Starbucks outside college, an orange mocha latte. He took his own black. 

Tyrion started off with all the usual questions - what was she studying, did she have any brothers/sisters, what was her favourite colour?

But talk turned gradually to themselves, and as she described her parents to Tyrion, she noticed his face had grown more distant, and she suddenly asked the question that had been on her mind the most.

"What's it like, being Tywin Lannister's son?" 

Tyrion looked at her, his green eyes sharp, although his voice was soft as he answered.

"It's like being invisible for the most part. My Mum died giving birth to me, and he loved her - and no-one else. Jaime and Cersei aren't stunted, and they're both beautiful, so he cared for them more than me, despite... everything." That 'everything' held the incestious implications. 

"And of course there's my dwarfism to contend with; it's not very becoming of a Lannister son." He said, and now he smiled at her. "Mostly, I just want to be normal. Not his son. I don't really care about the height thing."

As Sansa stared at him in silence, she realised she wanted to know him.

They'd been dating for two months now, and yesterday Tyrion had asked her to be official. She knew it was time to tell her parents.


	2. 2

Sitting at dinner the next night, Sansa felt the news that she and Tyrion were together bubble up in her chest. She couldn't help it - watching Robb with his girlfriend Jeyne Westerling somehow manage to look happily in love as they ate, as well as the steady love of her parents, she wanted to be able to share Tyrion in this family life, too. 

Perhaps now wasn't the right time, as Robb had his girlfriend over, but -

"Mum, Dad, I'm dating Tyrion Lannister."

The words broke the dinner time quiet, and her parents stared at her, her father's slate-grey eyes shocked, angry, her mother's deep blue fearful, and apprehensive.

But it was Robb who broke the silence.

"You're dating who?" The question was quietly furious, and she looked up, startled, as he stood up, his auburn hair falling across his forehead, his eyes glowering. Jeyne placed a restraining hand on his arm as she worried at her bottom lip with her teeth. 

"Tyrion. Lannister." Sansa said, and stared into Robb's face defiantly as she set down her knife and fork. 

"My little sister, going around with that - that freak!" Robb spat viciously, and Sansa felt the blood rush to her face.

"Now Robb!" Catelyn said, but Sansa saw in her father's eyes that he agreed with her brother. Sansa stood up to face him.  
"He is not a freak!" She shouted back at him, and saw that he was startled. "He's good - and kind - and generous and honest!"

"You don't know these people, Sansa." Ned said, looking at her with a weary, sincere expression. "They're a piece of work, all of them. The son will be no different. And the boy's a dwarf. I don't know what lies he's fed you to convince you, but it stops now. I forbid you to see him."

Sansa stared at her father, and then looked appealing at her mother, but she gazed resolutely at the table.

"Dad." Sansa whispered, shaking. "You can't do that. I'm nearly 17."

"You're my daughter, and you live under this roof. You're not an adult yet Sansa."

Tears brimming in her eyes, Sansa ran from the room. The decision was impossible - there was no decision, not really. If her family wouldn't even give Tyrion a chance, then what? She could see him at college, surely, but how long could that last? He wanted to meet her family, even though she wasn't sure if she wanted to meet his. She wanted to be able to kiss him in the privacy of her own home, where no eyes gave them sidelong glances. Where she could run her fingers through his fair hair without ceasing for a deadline. 

It couldn't work without their acceptance. And yet it never crossed Sansa's mind that they were right.

A sob choked her, even as her fingers tapped in the number on her mobile.

"Hello?" Tyrion's voice was light, and breezy. 

"Ty, it's me." She whispered.

"Sansa, are you OK? You sound-" He began, but she cut him off.

"I can't see you anymore. I'm sorry." Sansa blurted.

There was a long silence on the end of the phone.

"Why?" Tyrion said quietly, his voice almost automated.

"My family don't think you're good for me. It can't work."  
"But, San, it's you and me. Not them. I'm not Dad, or Cersei, or Jaime." Tyrion breathed in suddenly. "The thing is, I -"

Sansa ended the call before she could hear anymore, then lay down, feeling absolutely nothing.


	3. 3

The next week was uneasy, and awkward.

The first day, when Sansa walked into class, her eyes puffy and red from crying, the only person she could see was Tyrion. He regarded her for only a brief second, and there was nothing in his green eyes. How had Ned described Tywin's? Snake-like? It was exactly what she saw in Tyrion's now, his mouth set in his grim line.

On her break she sat with Margaery, who found the entire idea of Sansa and Tyrion breaking up for what she saw as no good reason infuriating.

Sansa felt grief welling up in her chest again and again. She watched Tyrion surreptitiously across the refectory, where he sat with his friends, but he never looked at her.

The days past, and at home, even Robb seemed uneasy with Sansa's silence, although she caught both her mother and Jeyne gazing at her with sympathetic looks. Anger burned inside her, white-hot.

Thoughts of Tyrion dogged her; his mouth so warm on her's, his fingers skimming down the length of her thigh in stolen moments, that promise of more to come. Sansa could hardly stand it. 

***

The next week, Sansa arrived early to college, and she stared desolately into her locker. 

"You." 

A cold voice interrupted her reverie - Sansa turned, to find Myrcella Baratheon staring at her with narrowed green eyes. Tyrion's eyes - she was Cersei's daughter, and Tyrion's niece. Did all the Lannisters have those same piercing eyes? It was like a continuous kick to the gut.

"Myrcella?" Sansa said uncertainly.

"What did you do to Tyrion?" Myrcella snapped.

"What? I - nothing." Sansa stammered, and Myrcella rolled her eyes. She took two steps forward, forcing Sansa back against her locker, so close Sansa could smell her perfume - floral, expensive.

"Oh please, don't give me that. He hasn't been drifiting around all hang-dog for no reason. You two have clearly broke up. Why? Not good enough for you, perfect little Stark?"

The words stung, and a sudden rush of tears behind Sansa's eyes made her blink, which made her blurt out the truth.

"Too good for me. Not good enough for my Dad. Or Robb." She breathed, and saw surprise on Myrcella's face.

The anger was gone. Mycella looked at her steadily.

"You need to talk to them." She said evenly.

Sansa looked down at her sandals.

"I can't."

"Why?"

"I know my Dad, Mycella. He won't change his mind... If he could just see what Tyrion is like, maybe he'd change his mind, but..."

Myrcella blinked.

"You really care about him."

Sansa nodded fervently.

"Yeah." 

Myrcella blinked slowly, cat-like, nodded, and then walked away.


	4. 4

It was Christmas break, December 23rd, and Sansa sat at the window, watching the snow fall. It didn't always snow, but there was no doubt that it was going to be a white Christmas this year. 

It had been 2 months now, and she was still thinking about him. Sansa resented it; they'd only dated for a month, and yet she couldn't get Tyrion out of her mind. 

There was a light knock on the door of her bedroom, and Sansa wiped her face quickly, then turned.

"Yes?"

It was Robb.

"San? Are you coming to decorate the tree?"

It was a Stark family tradition. Two days before Christmas they would all decorate the tree together. 

"No, sorry." Sansa said crisply, turning away from her brother, but not before she could see the guilt in his blue eyes, the nervous way he bit his lip.

"I bought you a cup of tea anyway." Robb said, setting the cup and saucer down gently on the inside of her door. It was in her favourite cup, bone-china, delicate handle, painted with pale flowers on white. She stirred it absently with the teaspoon before taking a sip, letting the warmth burn away some of the sadness inside her. 

Tyrion had never liked tea. He preferred coffee, and drank it black, so he could stay away longer at night, reading his books, writing his ideas and theories down. 

She remembered the taste on his tongue when they had kissed. He had promised to introduce her to Tywin one day; what would that have been like? 

She'd never know, and another wave of resentment towards her father and brother washed over her. She'd be 18 one day... But not for just under a year. And would it matter to Tyrion then? Did it even matter to him now?

The questions tormented Sansa, but she knew she was too timid to defy her family, and too ashamed to contact Tyrion. 

Another knock on her door, and it slowly opened. Catelyn stepped in, then closed the door behind her. 

She sat next to Sansa on the bed.

"Sansa, honey, please come downstairs." She whispered to her daughter.

"I don't want to, Mum." Sansa said, aware that she sounded petulant.

"You can't be angry at him forever. He's right." Sansa wasn't sure if she was referring to Robb or her father, but it made anger prickle over her regardless.

"No he isn't, Mum! None of you even know Tyrion. You don't know what he's like. He's so kind, so funny, so... nothing like what anyone says he's like." 

Catelyn smiled sadly.

"He's like his mother then."

"Mum... What?" Sansa was stunned.

"I knew his mother, Joanna. We were in the same class at school. She was one of my best friends."

Sansa could only stare.

"I gradually stopped seeing her after she met that man. He didn't like her having friends, but she loved him too much and was too afraid of him to defy him. She died having Tyrion, and I knew Tywin would never forgive that boy." The words were rushing out now, as if Catelyn had waited a lifetime to say this.

"I can't believe you never told me this! Tyrion is good." Sansa's voice tailed off to a whisper.

"But it's the same here, Sansa. We're a family, and we must stick together. You are a Stark, and so am I. You must be strong, and get through this. 

Sansa nodded, and followed her mother downstairs. 

She decorated the tree, and smiled at her brother, who looked relieved, and talked to her father about how class was going.

She was a Stark. She could do this.


	5. 5

Tyrion was bored. He gazed at the girl sitting across from him in the restaurant.

Talking. Talking talking talking. Would she ever stop? 

She was pretty, there was no doubt about it. Her hair was honey blonde, her eyes a deep brown. An unusual, striking combination. She was telling him about what she wanted to study at university, and he nodded.

Tyrion was surprised when she approached him after college one day. He knew, even then, that she was interested in his second name, not him, but still... Any distraction was welcome.

His mind drifted back to Sansa. As always. 

He sighed, and pretended to check his phone, then gasped.

"Oh God, I'm so sorry. Family crisis. I've got to go." He blurted out.

"Oh right.. Is everything OK?" The girl - he'd already forgotten her name - gazed at him with her beautiful eyes. The eyes that had no effect on him at all.

Tyrion nodded sincerely, before putting a £20 note on the table. 

A Lannister always pays his debts. The phrase rang in his mind.

"Yeah it should be... Sorry... Rain check?" Tyrion said, knowing he'd never call her. 

***

Tyrion paced back and forth in his room. He looked at his books, debated reading one to take the thoughts away, and shook his head.

It was 3 days after Christmas. 

He'd never said Merry Christmas to Sansa. Did that matter? Should he have? Could they be friends?  
Did he even want to be friends?

No. He couldn't do that. He could never look at her as a friend. Instead, he looked at himself in the mirror.

He had the Lannister eyes, bright green, and the golden hair. There was fine golden hair across his chest, and his skin was light and clear. He looked then at his stunted legs, slightly twisted, and his domed forehead, then turned away, disgusted. 

No wonder Eddard Stark didn't think he was good enough. How could he ever change his mind? If Sansa even still cared.

He had to do this properly. Starks were honourable. That's what his Dad always said. Honourable. Except he said it with a twist of his lips, and a sneer.

Tyrion closed his eyes, then opened them again. He put his best jeans on, and a smart shirt on. He brushed his hair until it shone, a sweep of molten gold, then shaved carefully.   
Money was always in ample supply as a Lannister, and he took a £20. He would stop for flowers on the way.


	6. 6

The knock at the door was unexpected. Sansa was curled up in an armchair by the fire, knitting a new scarf. It was going to be light blue, shot through with silver, to bring out the colour of her eyes. Sitting there, her toes tucked neatly under her, she painted a demure picture.

"Who is at this time?" Ned said, even though it was barely 6pm. 

"Jeyne's probably early." Robb said, from his position in front of the TV. "I'll get it." He stood up slowly and stretched, before walking to the door. 

"What are you doing here?" Robb's voice was loud and angry, and echoed through to the lounge. Catelyn and Ned shared a worried look, then rushed to the door.

Sansa paused, wondering whether or not to join them. Then she heard his voice, the smooth charm, the easy authority, the crystal voice of Tyrion Lannister.

"Mr and Mrs Stark. A pleasure. And you must be Robb? I'm sorry to disturb you, but it really is imperative that I see Sansa."

Sansa stood up, dazed, her cheeks flaming, and headed towards her family.

"You're not welcome-" Ned began.

"You look just like your mother." Catelyn cut across him. "Please come in."

Sansa stood behind her family, looking at Robb's angry posture, the curious tilt to the way her father held himself, and her mother, moving aside to allow Tyrion to step in. Sansa could only stare at him, at the warmth in his eyes as they met her's. In his left hand, he held white lillies. Her favourite. He remembered.

"I'm always told I look more like my father." He said conversationally to Catelyn.

"You have his colouring, it's true. But it's in your face." Catelyn replied, her eyes still on Tyrion.  
"Cat." Ned said, his voice low.

"No, Ned. He's here isn't he? For our girl. He's Joanna's son. You'll let him see her."

For once, Ned was silent, cowed by her mother.

Tyrion stepped closer.

"These are for you."

He proffered the lillies, and Sansa took them, inhaled their fragrance.

"Thank you... I should put them in water?" It was a question, and Tyrion nodded. Sansa inclined her head for him to follow her up the stairs. 

***

Tyrion watched as Sansa busied herself with the flowers, arranging them beautifully in a vase on the dresser of her room. He traced the lines of her body, the elegance that he had missed, her steady deliberate movements. 

It took him by surprise when Sansa turned to him, and kissed him, hard. He tasted the sweetness of her mouth, felt her tongue flicker against his teeth, her slim fingers tangle in her hair. He kissed her back, ran his hand down the slim bones in her neck, the smooth skin of her arm, before entwining his fingers with his. 

Sansa pulled away from him for a second, before pressing his face against the side of his, her mouth almost against his ear.

"I've been waiting for you" She whispered, and Tyrion pulled her body against his, his blood singing in his veins.

"I wanted to come. I wanted to know it was right. That you really do want me." He told her.

They kissed again, and again, as the moon was rising.


	7. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's taken me so long to update this, hope you enjoy the final installment in this fic!  
> Considering the time of the year, I thought I'd end this on a Christmassy note.

It was Christmas Eve, and Sansa and Tyrion had finally finished the long journey to the Stark's true home, Winterfell, situated in Northern Scotland. It had been a long drive, and their son Rickon slept in the backseat, his chubby lips parted, breathing slow deep breaths.  
10 years had passed since Tyrion had shown up on Sansa's doorstep, flowers in his hands, promises on his lips.  
Sansa gently lifted Rickon from the car as Tyrion hefted the bags from the boot. His hair was Lannister-blonde, spun gold, just like Tyrion's, but his eyes when open were blue, Tully blue. At 3 years old, he still had no idea that one day he would tower over his father.  
Robb opened the door as Sansa walked up the path. It was only early afternoon, but already, snow was falling.  
"San!" At the sound of Robb's voice, Rickon stirred in her arms.  
"Robb." She smiled as Robb took Rickon from her, looking at their similarities, despite Rickon's lack of auburn hair.  
"Unca Robb!" Rickon squealed happily.  
"Did you miss me, little guy?" Robb asked, setting him down. "Your Grandma's in the kitchen. I think she's made you some cookies."  
Robb hugged Sansa, before going out to help Tyrion with the bags. The unusual camaraderie between her husband and her brother never failed to surprise Sansa, considering Robb's teenage anger.  
She followed her son's bobbing head as he ran into the kitchen, wrapping his arms around Catelyn's legs.  
"Oh my, look how you've big you've grown!" She said, reaching down to pat Rickon's head.  
"Cookies?" He said, looking up at her.  
"There'll be ready in a minute, greedy." She laughed, turning to Sansa to embrace her. "Did you make it here alright?"  
"Yeah. It started snowing just as we got into town. It was a relief to Tyrion, you know how he worries about his driving, especially with Rickon."  
On cue, Eddard, Tyrion and Robb appeared in the kitching, all out of breath carrying heavy bags.  
"Good lord Sansa," puffed her father "How much did you bring with you?"  
Tyrion rolled his eyes, cat-green, but she saw the affection there.  
"You know of Sansa's fondness for dresses and shoes, I'm sure."  
Sansa laughed.  
"Oh stop, you!" Even though it was true. Since her graduation from university, she had gone on to write for Vogue, and was always happy to take advantage of the clothing offers.  
Tyrion smiled, reaching to take Sansa's hand. 

***

Christmas day dawned frosted with snow, and Sansa sat in her dressing gown, snuggled in the crook of Tyrion's arm as they watched Rickon open his presents. Robb's wife Jeyne had joined them later on Christmas Eve, and they emerged yawning at the top of the stairs as Catelyn made breakfast in the kitchen.  
Rickon crowed with delight as he opened a present from Tyrion. It was two carved, perfectly painted wooden animals.  
A lion and a wolf.  
"For our little cub." Tyrion whispered, kissing Sansa's cheek.  
"It's perfect, Ty." She murmured back. "What did your Dad get him?"  
"I'm not sure. Some new video game he'll never play, no doubt."  
Sansa shook her head. Despite having 3 children of his own, she had never seen anyone more uncomfortable than Tywin around children.  
"What did you get me?" She said to Tyrion, smiling playfully. His green eyes flashed.  
"Your's is there, under the tree." He indicated to a small, beautifully-wrapped package. Sansa opened it carefully. Inside a small jewelry box lay a necklace, inlaid with moonstones.  
It was an infinity symbol.  
"Although I already knew we were a forever kind of thing." Tyrion said, his characteristic half-smirk on his face.


End file.
